The Manoeuvring Mother (Vol. 1-3). Lady Charlotte Campbell Bury
so agreeably arranged, so many extremely pleasant people gathered together! Wetheral will prove fast-days after such an evening as this, but fasts are enjoined, you know. Mortifications are proper to subdue the spirit."
"I am engaged to ride with Miss Wetheral to-morrow," replied Tom Pynsent, with a slight hesitation of speech, and a remarkably silly look. "I am to show her a monstrous fine view."
"How very kind! my daughter is not acquainted with our distant views, Mr. Pynsent, and your polite attention will be the means of increasing her pleasures. Miss Wetheral delights in fine scenery. You must dine with us, my dear sir; we shall not allow you to run away after, perhaps, a long and fatiguing ride. My dear Lord Ennismore, thank you for bringing me Julia, but where is her ladyship?"
"Lord Farnborough is escorting my mother; our carriage has just drawn up, and she begs you will drive on without waiting for her. She is talking to the Farnboroughs, and I am going to join her. We shall be at Wetheral before you."
"Oh yes, your horses are much too speedy for my fears. Well, then, my dear Julia, we will proceed at once into the carriage."
Lord Ennismore handed Julia to the carriage, and returned to join his mother.
"Excellent young man," exclaimed Lady Wetheral, "I always admired Ennismore, but his filial attentions are beautiful."
Tom Pynsent could not forbear a smile at her ladyship's enthusiastic admiration; he wished the party good night.
"Good night, good night," said Lady Wetheral and Julia, kissing their hands to the receding figure of Mr. Pynsent. Anna Maria did not speak her adieus, neither did she wave her hand, but she bent forward to watch the last glimpse of his athletic form, as it disappeared among the groups, who were waiting for their carriages.
CHAPTER VII.
Tom Pynsent's ride with Miss Wetheral only led the way to repeated engagements at Wetheral on his part, and on Lady Wetheral's side, to affectionate welcomes and smiles upon his entrance. At every opportunity, and upon every occasion, Tom Pynsent was appointed to take charge of "dear Anna Maria," and her ladyship thanked him in flattering terms for the delightful accession of health which Miss Wetheral had gained by constant and agreeable horse-exercise.
Anna Maria did, indeed, gain both health and happiness from the repeated tête-à-têtes which fell to her lot with the man she loved. The tone of conversation, his shy manner—so like his manner with Julia—his anxiety to form fresh engagements to meet again; all convinced her his affections were surrendered to herself. Her cheek resumed its bloom, her eye regained its brightness, and her figure became more elastic; there was hope in her smiles, and lightness in her movements, which formed an extraordinary change in the once insipid Miss Wetheral. Anna Maria must ever appear gentle and peculiarly feminine, but she was no longer painfully inert or tranquil, to a death-like stillness. It was a rapid and complete change; a change which proved how powerfully unrequited love had dealt with a heart which could now rise at the touch of affection, from torpid listlessness, to the joys of life; which could spring at once from cold and weary melancholy, to the light and warmth of a joyous mind, revelling in happy prospects.
Sir John Wetheral perceived Tom Pynsent's attentions with pleasure. His honest heart and honourable feelings promised every happiness, he said, to a woman who could prefer heart to head, and, if Anna Maria had the sense to choose him instead of the lordlings whom Julia coveted, he could insure her a happy married life, if it were not her own fault. He wished he could prophecy equal content to Julia, but she had planned her own marriage, and she must abide the issue; Lady Wetheral must blame herself, if Julia was unhappy, for she had brought up her daughters to consider wealth and station a balance to the weight of matrimonial misery, and her remarks and sentiments taught Julia to believe she had done well in selling herself to the highest bidder.
Lady Wetheral never could endure her husband's observations, when they touched upon her government of children, and his present remarks brought down a thousand reproaches.
"I think, Sir John, you might spare me what I can only term abuse, and which you level at me now upon all occasions."
"My dear, you are wrong; abuse never issues from my lips."
"I call that abuse," she returned, "which throws blame over all my actions, and which is not true. You are imputing, I may say, infamous motives to me; and, while I am ever ready to advance my daughter's happy and respectable establishments, you thunder blame from your study, yet never assist yourself in a work of so much importance. Had it not been for me, Lord Ennismore would never have proposed to Julia, and, had I not watched Tom Pynsent, and drawn him constantly to Wetheral, he might never have transferred his affections to Anna Maria. In all this, Sir John, you have never assisted me; and what your conscience will accuse you of on your death-bed, I know not; mine will give me consolation in my last hour, in thinking I have performed my duties to my children. You are obstinately resolved to imagine Julia is marrying against her better judgment; but, my love, your time and mine is gone by, and we must not judge of a young woman's affection by our own feelings. I can quite understand Julia's attachment to Lord Ennismore, and she could not be expected to forego that attachment, to please your fastidious taste."
"This is not a matter of taste," replied Sir John; "it involves a deep principle. Julia is marrying Ennismore, because his title has blinded her judgment; her ambition is gratified, and her affections are yielded up to its influence. Your sentiments have fostered her conduct, and you will suffer by its effects, Gertrude."
"Sir John, any one would think you a professed booby," exclaimed his lady, warmly; "any one would suppose you mad to hear you croaking and grieving, because your daughter is on the point of marriage with a peer of large fortune, and excellent character."
"Ennismore has no character at all, Gertrude."
"Then Julia will govern him, Sir John; don't be uneasy about that."
"Not while his mother lives."
"Nonsense; Julia will do what she pleases; don't talk to me of old mothers; who ever minds their mothers? If Tom Pynsent cared for his mother, he would not pay attention to Anna Maria. No, no, that is a very poor plea against Lord Ennismore. If Tom Pynsent would propose at once, my girls might marry the same day; he intends to propose, of course, but he is a long time about it. He was quicker in asking Julia."
"He has learned experience," said her husband, smiling.
"Men are so stupid," returned Lady Wetheral; "they show their intentions, and yet linger at the threshold. I will find out his meaning the next time we meet, but I shall enter upon the subject with great tact—you need not look so alarmed."
"Remember the fate of Mrs. Primrose's attack upon Mr. Thornhill, Gertrude."
Lady Wetheral affected not to hear when any subject offended or interfered with her ideas of propriety; in this case, she was absolutely deaf, and her thoughts took a more excursive range.
"When my two daughters are disposed of, Clara will, of course, come forward, and her remarkable style of beauty will soon attract attention and admiration. I do not consider Clara particularly gifted, but her appearance will more than balance her want of intellect. Your pet, Chrystal, as you call her, will be a sort of companion for her, though the child is disgustingly forward and pert, as I always prognosticated she would be."
Christobelle was seated upon a stool at her father's feet, when this dialogue took place; he patted her head at the conclusion of Lady Wetheral's speech, and observed how companionable she had been, and still proved to be, in his solitude. "If," he remarked, "the other girls had been brought up to study, instead of being married from the nursery, they would prove better companions and better wives, in the duties they are resolved to encounter."
"That is a remark so like you, my dear, that I am somewhat weary of the dull round of sentiment; Miss Chrystal, what are you poring over?"
Christobelle rose, and presented her book.